A Matter of Instinct
by Beth Weasley
Summary: They may have gotten out of the eclipse, but an emergency skiff won't get them very far. But what kind of ship roams the ghost lanes and is willing to pick up a band of survivors? Major rewrite of Instinct. M for language, violence, and some raunchyness.
1. Chapter 1

Well, here we are, with the start of the second fic in my "Seer" series, revised version. I have to extend a lot of thanks to Lynx for beta-reading for me and catching at least some of my 'oops'es. Also, thank you to everyone who reviewed, alerted, and favorited Faint Premonition. Your feedback means a lot to me.

So, without further ado, welcome to...

**A Matter of Instinct**

A _Chronicles of Riddick: Dark Fury_ Alternate Universe

**Chapter One**

I looked over my shoulder when Docking Pilot Carolyn Fry moaned, peering around the back of the co-pilot's couch and past the young girl calling herself 'Jack.' The poisoned woman had gotten more vocal in the last few hours, but showed no sign of regaining consciousness. Given that she'd been out for nearly the entire week we'd been in the skiff, I doubted she would recover at all.

The last time I'd checked the blonde's grue-inflicted wound, the black tendrils of venom-killed tissue covered more than half her back. I didn't say anything aloud, but it seemed that the other ten crash survivors realized what I did.

Twelve of us, including the former pilot, crowded the little emergency skiff. Our food and water supplies had gotten low, and the oxygen scrubbers whined faintly with impending failure. Frighteningly little time remained before things would start to fall apart, but my gut said a ship would pick us up before time ran out. Not what kind of vessel, nor what sort of people would be aboard it, but a degree of rescue was all we needed. I'd trusted my gut instincts completely for nearly fifteen years— since my adoptive parents gave me the torn-off, tear-stained paper that had been tucked into the blanket wrapped around me when they found me on their doorstep.

A subtle glance to my left at the big man in the pilot's seat warmed me. Riddick, I believed, was another survivor of the massacre my birth mother's letter had mentioned. The first person I'd ever met who had senses as finely tuned as mine. A convicted killer with a rap sheet longer than I am tall. Not the kind of person a good criminologist should want to be around, but I had to admit, if only to myself, that I was falling hard for him.

The skiff rocked with an impact, jolting me out of my thoughts. Jack nearly fell onto the console between the two chairs, while the youngest of the three Muslim boys cried out. Red lights began flashing on the boards around me.

"Warning: hull breached." The masculine voice of the computer sounded irritatingly calm. "Engines operating at one hundred ten percent of capacity." In other words, we'd been snagged by something or someone. Next to me, blunt fingers danced over the controls. "Hull breach contained. Engines operating at one hundred seventy percent of capacity." The vessel vibrated madly as its power plants strained. "Engine and hull failure imminent under current parameters."

"No shit." Shazza's flat voice telegraphed disgust and unease. She'd been restless since her sprained ankle quit bothering her. I met wide hazel-green eyes with my own steely blue and tried to reassure the girl who obviously looked up to me. Beads clicked in the back, accompanied by a whispered, indistinct prayer.

"Critical systems failure in five seconds. Four seconds. Three seconds." Riddick flicked all but two system power toggles, leaving only life support and artificial gravity on. "Two seconds. One second." Lights cut off and the hum of engines died as he pushed his wraparound sunglasses up onto his forehead. Elbows on armrests, he steepled his fingers and turned luminous silver eyes on the only English-speaking youngster.

"First you're a boy, then you're a girl, and now you're a psychic." Oh joy. We'd been tagged by mercenaries, he was thinking, people who got a kick out of hunting down other people for money. Scum, the whole stinkin' breed. "Careful what you wish for, Jack." She flashed him a saccharine smile, then looked up as the comm crackled to life.

"Unidentified craft, state your purpose and contents." A male voice, words clipped, sounding like he had a big, fat stick rammed up his ass. I leaned forward to key the mike on the board.

"We're survivors of a wreck, _Hunter-Gratzner_, New Oslo Shipping Company. Captain and navigator were killed in the crash, docking pilot was injured and is sicker than a damned dog. We'd appreciate a lift to the nearest spaceport."

"And who am I speaking to?"

"Name's Bergenhaus, I work for Meyer, Meyer, and Trent. Was traveling on business." The convict arched an eloquent eyebrow at me, and I mouthed the word 'later.' A long pause had me nibbling my lower lip nervously.

"Very well. Prepare to dock." Once I'd made sure the pickup was off and would stay that way, I touched his too-still hand lightly. Suspicion tightened his eyes.

"My business is their survival." My barely-audible whisper lessened the sudden tension between us. "And, preferably, your freedom." Struck by whimsy, I grinned. "From the government and the penal system, at least." He squinted, then snorted, leaning back and relaxing a hair.

"Pushy woman." Not that he sounded too unhappy about it.

"If these people are more of Johns' ilk, why would they help us?" Paris made a valid point. So he'd caught the meaning of the big guy's comment to Jack.

"Prob'ly voice recognition software on their comms." I easily picked up where Riddick was headed with his comment.

"MM&T goes after any merc they can build a solid case against. I've only been part of the team for a few years, and didn't travel, but I've helped turn around some high-profile cases. Mr. Trent might have been willing to do anything to get me out in the field within a year, had things not… changed." I hit the release, sliding the couch away from the console, and stood, gathering up the armor plate that I'd hung on its back and buckling it on.

"Cripes." Zeke looked over at his wife, eyes wide. "An' your dad, love…"

"Would do anything to get me out of the hands of people like these." The heiress sounded less than pleased, with reason. "I'm not goin' quietly. They wanna mess with a Montgomery, then—"

"Then you'll hang on to my gear for me and let the killers do the fighting." With one hand, I lifted my duffel and pushed it at the brunette. It held several weapons, including my rifle, as well as my comm system from work, my hygiene kit, and the now-empty second duffel I'd brought. She staggered, surprised by my action. "The same two men taught us both, and I am fully prepared to kill as many of these merc scumbags as necessary." The imam was scowling, and I shot him a glare. "The first man I killed was a rapist and a murderer who intended to make me his next victim." He jerked back, eyes wide.

The little vessel jolted again as I checked that my twin daggers, sheathed in the plate on my back, moved freely. We slewed around on the tether, briefly bringing the larger ship into view: huge, silvery-white, with accents of gold and purple. The bounty hunters aboard it had to be ridiculously successful to afford such a gaudy mobile base of operations. Then we stared out into space again.

Cool green walls crept in from the edges of the viewport, gradually revealing bay doors that shut swiftly and moved in once we'd cleared them. Some sort of equipment grabbed the skiff and straightened it relative to the surrounding structure. We could only wait for their next move.


	2. Chapter 2

My thanks go out to everyone for the responses to Chapter 1, including reviews from jinxedpixie, forestreject, RatedRGirl83, and BlueEyedPisces, and favorites/alerts from forestreject, DarkDreamer1982, BlueEyedPisces, and tetisheri. Please let me know what you think as often as you like; there's no better email subject for me to see in my inbox than 'FanFiction .net Review Alert' and your input helps me make my writing better. Now, on with the show!

**A Matter of Instinct**

A _Chronicles of Riddick: Dark Fury_ Alternate Universe

**Chapter Two**

_Kubla Khan_, Bridge

"Ship is secure in Bay Three." As the statement came over the speakers, Junner Front stalked over to the right-most sensor station. The screen on the back of the technician's hood showed the bay in question and the emergency vessel they had just picked up.

"Report." Red dots swiftly overlaid the image.

"Eight heat signatures, adult." The man operating the station answered promptly. "Some residual as well, four sources. Too many to be burn-off from the engines. Could be juveniles."

"Find out." He hated having to babysit these idiots.

Skiff

(Riddick)

I put on th' rig with th' swingblades I got from Eileen, then pick up th' cuttin' torch an' light it. Fuck knows why th' thing is aboard, but I've got an idea for foolin' th' mercs.

"No offense, but I don't think that's gonna cut it against whatever it is that's comin' for us." Kid's gotten bold with me, but she still keeps her distance from th' other men. Prob'ly means she'll eventually get through whatever happened t' make her run.

"Hold your breath." Immediately, th' pretty gal I can't get enough of pulls down her shades an' presses 'em against her face so they seal. Good, she's thinkin' what I'm thinkin'.

"Sean, you're responsible for Fry." Th' scientist pulls th' limp woman 'gainst 'is body, covers her mouth an' nose loosely. Jack starts t' protest.

"Hold. Your. Breath." My firm order snaps her mouth shut as I hold th' flame close t' th' skiff's fire sensor.

_Kubla Khan_, Bridge

"Running a tighter sweep." But the blips winked out. "Wait a minute…" The data-cruncher sounded confused as his fingers flew over the keypads under each hand.

"What is it?"

"It's the sweep. According to what I'm getting, they're gone."

"Gone?" Twelve, even eight people didn't just vanish. Not from a sealed vessel in an unpressurized bay.

"Nothing inside that ship is putting out heat any more. How's that possible?"

The tall, dark-haired man growled, then turned to face the golden throne, situated where its white-robed occupant could see everything going on at the nerve center of her domain. "Standard greeting party and a medic?" She gave a nod of silent permission.

He inclined his head respectfully to Lady Chillingsworth, then traded challenging stares with her bodyguard, the Asian woman he knew only as Beryl. With a smartly-executed turn, he headed toward the ready room, where the few mercenaries who were kept out of cryosleep had best be waiting. He'd take twenty-five. That should be enough to subdue a dozen crash survivors, especially with one seriously injured.

The magnetic soles of his boots made a rhythmic clang as he strode down the gravity-free corridor. Heavily-armed men and women followed him, ranged all the way around the cylindrical passage, a technician in a gray skinsuit and a skittish med tech hauling a hover-gurney at the back. Junner was looking forward to the possibility that he might get to pound on the person who had devised and implemented the masking of heat signatures… and then figuring out how to have that idea modified to fit the _Kubla Khan_.

Bay Three's internal airlock came into sight, and the two thugs-for-hire who guarded it— a woman with an eye patch and a squinty-eyed man who absently chewed on a cigarette— stood taller at his approach. Good; well-disciplined lackeys lightened his considerable responsibilities.

"Anything?"

"No sir. No one's been in _or_ out of this bay since I locked it down myself. _Zero_ atmosphere."

"Pressurize." The grunt hit a series of buttons, then waited out a series of pinging sounds.

"We've got O2, sir. It's a bit thin, but breathable. Green for breach." Junner nodded once, and the slightly convex wall in front of him moved, bringing into sight a short corridor and a platform on the other side.

"Earn your keep." The two-dozen-and-one mercenaries he'd brought streamed past him, spreading out in the large bay. Junner followed, catching a half-floating bullet dropped by the man who was loading his gun on the tongue of steel extending from the airlock. Then, passing it back, he addressed the entire group. "There is a woman aboard this vessel who is far more valuable alive than what anyone here has ever encountered. Should you damage her, this will be a day you regret for the rest of your life. Do not underestimate the importance of such a thing." He gave it a moment to sink in. "Begin."

The man in the skinsuit made a running leap, catching a clamp when he found himself off target. He moved down to the wing of the little piece of junk, then to the fuselage's stern. He stuck a code-breaker onto the hatch there, and listened carefully as it worked. The technician propelled himself backwards, and Junner smiled in cruel anticipation.

Skiff

(Eileen)

I was damned glad that my shades had a nice, tight seal around the edges. The extinguishing foam pressed against me from all sides, but couldn't get into my eyes. But my lungs were beginning to demand air.

Suddenly, I was pushed along as the pressure dispersed. Good, someone had opened the can without being sure of the label. I was ready to dish out some whup-ass. Dextra and Sinistra left their sheathes as I kicked my way closer to the surface of the fire-retardant bubble.

"Extinguishing foam?" It was an unfamiliar voice, full of confusion, but not near me. I stuck my face out, as little as I could manage and still get a breath. Someone yelped, and the smell of fresh blood joined the scents in the bay.

"Fall back! Everyone, fall back!" So the man I'd spoken to over the comm was here. I heard someone hurl themselves out of the concealing globe; somehow, I knew it was Riddick, so I decided to join the party.

I came out right in the face of one merc and hit him with an uppercut, half a meter of gleaming titanium carbon nitride sliding along his neck in the same motion. Blood spurted as I used his body for a springboard. The convict slammed his third victim into a bulkhead as I eviscerated my second.

Automatic rifles chattered, but part of my mind took control while I sailed from merc to merc, the part that had directed me through school dodgeball games; I'd always been the last student standing. Someone came up behind me and got an elbow to their nose, the point of the dagger in that hand going through their eye and into their braincase.

Another scruffy male tried coming at me from below, only to get a pair of steel-toed combat boots to his chin. His neck broke with a muffled crunch. I smashed into the next sideways, shoving his arm into his chest. He jerked, then his pistol fired, splattering bits of his head everywhere.

"You certainly know how to make an entrance." I glanced up, seeing that the voice from the comm belonged to a tall, skinny, black-haired guy wearing trendy-but-useless green shades and a white coat that did his pale skin no favors. Still, even with a good line of fire to him, I didn't bother grabbing one of the guns floating around. For one, I had no idea which ones still had ammo in them. For two, the shape of my dagger hilts made it virtually impossible to hold a second object in either hand. No way would I abandon a blade that I knew I could trust for a firearm I didn't.

"That's nothin', scarecrow." Oh, fuck. "They're gonna kick your ass so hard—" Someone yanked Jack back into the ball of semi-liquid foam just before bullets tore into it.

I noticed my battle-mate— and where I'd come up with the term, I had no idea— grab a rifle, the hooked shape of his swingblades keeping them in his hands. He mowed down four or five mercs in as many seconds, then hit another in the throat with the stock before tossing it aside. My beast side was aroused in more ways than one by the battle.

I chose my next target and sprang toward her, my trajectory taking me within arm's reach of the bubble hiding the other survivors. But I never got to the bitch, as a blow fell between my shoulder blades with the force of a sledgehammer. I heard Jack yelp as I was driven to the decking, seven meters down. The landing knocked the breath out of me, and the girl was thrown down next to me. She rolled to her back, then held up her hands in frightened surrender. Whoever had hit me— I suspected tall-and-pasty— kept one foot on me and turned an odd assault rifle on his other captive. The sword along its barrel hovered only centimeters from her face.

"I think not. What do you say?" I couldn't see Riddick, but I could hear someone being choked.

"Call off your lapdog, before his trying to impress you gets him killed." So the snobbish man wasn't in charge here.

"Am I so obvious?" The female voice made me raise an eyebrow.

"Call it what you want, but tell him to stand down, _now_." The last word came out of the convict in an angry growl. Material shifted with a slightly mechanical rustle, the sound coming from the same direction as the voice. Lapdog's sword now pressed against Jack's forehead, drawing a fat bead of blood.

_Motherfucker will suffer for hurting her._

"You'll have to excuse Junner's excitement. It sometimes makes him a touch… quick." The woman sounded like she was discussing the goddamn _weather_. "Though, I can't say I blame him. You see, he's just heard _so_ much about you, Riddick."

They'd identified him really fast. Not from a voiceprint, though, which argued for visual recognition. I hoped they wouldn't be able to do the same with Shazza and the Arab boys.

"Yes, I know your name." She paused dramatically. "Quite a bit more about you, I think… and Miss Bergenhaus, judging by her performance here today."

"Careful." The familiar, reassuring voice conveyed a large amount of 'back the fuck off.' "You may find what you're lookin' for."

"I'm willing to share, of course, but I must ask that you both surrender your weapons… before any more of my apparently overpaid associates come to an untimely end." Associates, my ass. More like trained chimpanzees, for all the chance they'd had against the pair of us.

"Mmm. Not gonna happen." Despite the big guy's words, I felt a surge of warm reassurance, threaded with a sense of planning.

"No?" A tiny click told me that Junner had tightened his finger on his weapon's trigger. The girl began to shake, squeezing her eyes shut.

"Th' girl… is nothin' t' me." I knew very well that the statement was pure bullshit.

"Then enlighten me. Why would a stone-cold killer, such as yourself, go to all the trouble of keeping the likes of her and these others alive?" Well, damn, someone must have started dispersing the retardant and extracting the other nine. "Unless, of course, you've grown attached."

"They're a cover story, nothin' more. You shoot 'em now, an' you'll be savin' me th' trouble." Tears formed in Jack's eyes. Then the pressure on my back vanished, only to return as a kick that rolled me over and then settled just below my breasts. The modified rifle moved so I stared up its barrel.

"Then I have your blessing." Out of the corner of my eye, I finally saw the bitch in charge. Lavender hair, lily-white skin, and a sleekly-clad body that most models would kill for spoke of cosmetic enhancement, while traceries of gold at her hairline and wrists, extending onto the back of the one hand I could see, said cybernetic modification. It must have taken a considerable fortune for her to have it all done, on top of the ship itself.

The trigger of the assault rifle clicked again, bringing my attention back to it. Riddick grunted, and then the swingblades whistled through the air, serrated edges lodged into the weapon as their kinetic force shoved it clear of me and the kid. Damn, he'd given in to her demands.

"Maybe I know more about you than you do yourself."

"Now just ain't th' time." Fury laced his voice as Junner used the unbalanced gun to move Dextra and Sinistra out of my reach. There was a wet crunch and a pop, killing the man that I knew the convict had been strangling through the entire conversation.

"Lock them down. We're done here." The fucking bitch's voice turned brisk and business-like. More flunkies streamed across my field of vision, and I heard the other former passengers of the _Hunter-Gratzner_ protest the rough handling they received. The head lackey kept me pinned until my hands had been cuffed, then tried to wrench my shoulder while pulling me to my feet.

I was forced to watch as the strongest, most deadly, and yet most intrinsically good man I knew was strapped onto a dolly modified to immobilize a human. Few would agree with me on the 'good' part, I knew, but stripped down to the basics, it was true. A rifle against my spine ensured that I joined the group of prisoners. The brunette heiress-cum-bushwhacker wore my duffel against her front, manacles locking her arms around it. I gave her a ghost of a smile and received a slow blink of acknowledgement.

"My apologies." My ears focused on Junner's voice.

"You know how worthless those are to me. You did well. People die in this line of work, Junner. A handful of men? A small price to pay." If she called nearly two dozen corpses 'a handful of men,' it was a wonder anyone worked for her.

"What will you do with him? Or her, for that matter?"

"Slowly, Junner. Have them both brought to my conservatory. I've something _beautiful_ in mind." Somehow, I couldn't see her keeping plants, which left me wondering what her conservatory held. "And, Junner? Unfreeze some more mercs."


	3. Chapter 3

Another Wednesday, and another chapter. I'd like to thank Nelle07, BlueEyedPisces, and JJ-Jefferu (yes, you're right, it's the new and improved version) for their reviews, and Nelle07, Millenia-the-wings-of-valmar, and JJ-Jefferu for adding this to their favorties/alerts. I hope I did well on the combat scene last chapter... if I screwed up, let me know so I can fix the upcoming melee scenes! As always, read, enjoy, and please review!

**A Matter of Instinct**

A _Chronicles of Riddick: Dark Fury_ Alternate Universe

**Chapter Three**

The hover-stretcher bearing Fry's limp body peeled away from the rest of us pretty early on. I felt torn between wanting her life saved and hoping that she died without telling anyone anything about us. Then again, it probably didn't matter either way; she'd been the next best thing to a furnace on the skiff, which had probably fried her brains pretty badly.

Vegetable would be an optimistic outcome.

The path chosen by our guards eventually led to a long, high-ceilinged corridor, fanciful golden curlicues framing clear panels that displayed rank upon rank of cryotubes, more advanced than the boxes we'd been in before the wreck. Many held nothing. The humans were segregated into two groups, one on either side. One set tended to the unkempt, people who looked like they'd been going a long time without the opportunity to clean themselves up. The other consisted of hard-faced individuals, everything on them appearing to be in good or even nearly-new condition.

"Have you ever _seen_ anythin' like this before?" Shazza sounded disgusted. I couldn't look at her to be sure, though, as I'd been placed near the head of the line of eleven prisoners. Riddick was being towed along just in front of me, unable to do anything but move his head and his hands below the wrists.

"Merc ships? Plenty." The convict craned his head to look at one bank of tubes. "Just tryin' t' figure out how it all goes together."

"I've heard rumors of something like this." Most of the office had dismissed them as tall tales, but Jamie wasn't the only one who'd agreed with my sentiment that there had to be something real that spawned the stories. "Keep your employees and 'merchandise' in deep freeze until or unless you need them active."

"It is a converted plantation operation." Something about Abu's statement made me acutely uneasy. "A ship like this loads up at port, signs on as many men as it can hold, then goes out for months, sometimes years, at a time. However long it takes to fill their stores."

"Except a merchant rig's usually harvesting ore, maybe crops. Not people." The gruff statement caused my mind to make an intuitive leap.

"Captured bounties on one side, contracted manpower on the other." And the holy man knowing how it all worked did not sit well.

"Just add heat." I was tempted to chuckle at Jack's facetious addition. Riddick, though, fixed his shielded gaze on the imam.

"You know a lot 'bout this shit… for a holy man."

"I hear things." The reply was much too casual for my comfort. We'd have to keep a careful eye on the dark-skinned man once we got out of this fix.

Then the big guy flashed me a wicked grin. "Must be a special kind of desperate dick, signs on t' this." Several of the mercs I could see flinched at the statement, except for a fat, piggish man to my left. He raised his rifle and smashed the butt of it into Riddick's jaw, but the only effect was a brief deformation of the man's cheek.

"Shut up!" I considered that a truly pitiful attempt at a growl.

"You're the exception, of course." Riddick's voice turned smug. "For you, it's life experience." If the idiot's next expression was intended to be a snarl, he failed with flying colors.

"So, what's the plan?" Ah, so the kid had managed to get in line right behind me. "It's not like we haven't gotten outta worse."

True, the grues on the eclipse planet had put us in a bad situation, but devouring their own kind had been just as important as killing us. Bounty hunters, on the other hand, would focus solely on us.

"The way I see it, we can take these jerks when— hey!" A lean man with lank, truly red hair grabbed Jack's shoulder firmly, turning her to one side as we reached a cul-de-sac. It looked like Riddick and I were going the other way.

"This is where we get off, princess." She fought his pull as the others filed in obediently.

"I will pray."

"Not for us." The response to Abu's offer got more familiar every hour.

"I won't leave without you!" The teenager looked like she'd never let us out of her sight, if she had anything to do with it. "I'll find you both!" The hatch closed, cutting off any view of that section.

Our own destination was not much further. A wide door opened onto a gigantic room, the walls and floors done in white, amplifying the light and its color. _That_ eerie blue glow was emitted by something inside an inverted cone of statues. Some of the figures were contorted in ways that would be very painful, even to me.

"Set him down and leave." Junner again. Wonderful. He gestured for us to come down from the little landing. As we passed him, I turned until my back— my armor plate feeling odd without my daggers either in my hands or their sheathes— just brushed that of my battle-mate. Then I began scanning for threats, obstacles, and potential weapons; the Sergeants hadn't needed to drill me in that, as I did it automatically all the time.

Riddick stopped for a moment, and I glanced briefly over my shoulder. An incredibly life-like sculpture of a naked man had drawn his attention. Then I looked to my front again, and the lean merc froze. I did _not_ like the look of the hypo-spray in his hand.

"Whichever one you can reach, Junner." The man at my back jerked half a second before the merc bitch queen spoke. I kept her flunky under a careful, wary stare.

"The hell—" Taking advantage of Riddick's startlement, Junner rushed me. Without a thought, I lifted my arms over my head, briefly feeling smooth scalp. The chain between the manacles was gripped firmly as my partner leaned forward, lifting my feet off the floor. With every bit of leg strength I had, I kicked out; my left foot sent the hypo flying, and my right connected with the bastard's chin. Knocked on his ass, he slid several meters across the slick decking.

Riddick crouched as he straightened his back, gently setting me down and waiting for me to move my hands in front of me before standing. Then he twisted around a bit, saw the results of our move, and flashed me a triumphant smirk. I shrugged, not knowing where it had come from, especially as we hadn't discussed anything even remotely like that reaction. It felt both instinctive and very cool.

The good mood didn't last long. An airgun discharged somewhere in the room, sending something zipping through the air to hit the big convict in the side of his neck. He went to his knees, and I snarled at both mercs I could see, waiting for him to recover. When he stood again, he briefly showed me the injector dart with its huge needle, then threw it aside.

"All right. _Now_ you have my attention." Any normal, sane person would have run away in terror upon hearing that sort of growl from Riddick, and with good reason. But mercs don't have half the sense of your average human.

"A necessary precaution." The woman waved her hand as if nothing had happened. "Either of you attempts something uncivilized— killing me, for example— I detonate the explosive charge you've just been implanted with and sleep very well tonight." Her lips curved in a parody of a smile. "Walk with me."

"You're not puttin' _me_ on a pedestal." I agreed wholeheartedly with my battle-mate's statement. But the lavender-haired bitch just looked more smug.

"No, of course not." I waited for the other shoe to drop. "You're strictly for my _private_ collection."


	4. Chapter 4

I'm very pleased at the moment, having checked Vin Diesel's Facebook page to find out that they can start filming the new Riddick movie this summer. ^_^ So looking forward to seeing it, after 7 years and counting. Thanks go out to my reviewers - RatedRGirl83, BlueEyedPisces, jinxedpixie, and JJ-Jefferu - and to those who have added me to their favorites and/or alerts - LadySilverDragon2, Reikal, and gothicmarie. You may notice that Eileen's starting to slack off when it comes to enunciating the ends of some words... Riddick's rubbing off on her. And a clue about her premonitions, too... *grins* I had to find a name for the masked woman in the cryo revival scene, so I plucked Zanna out of God only knows where. And then I decided there had to be a reason she would put up with crazies like Chillingsworth, Junner, and Toombs, so... Hope you like it! Leave me a review, please? *kitten eyes*

**A Matter of Instinct**

A _Chronicles of Riddick: Dark Fury_ Alternate Universe

**Chapter Four**

_Kubla Khan_, Cryo Control

As she began selecting mercs for revival, Zanna muttered to herself in irritation. Every time one of the drooling idiots managed to get themselves killed, _she_ was the one who had to replace them. She regretted ever taking the job offer that had been dangled in front of her.

Now, according to the rumors she'd heard, a supposed pushover with ransom potential had, instead, teamed up with the most notorious killer in the known universe. From the queue of mercs on her list, the pair of them had killed almost the entire welcome wagon. Arnie in Security said the woman had killed one guy just by kicking him, had knifed three, and got a fifth to blow his own head off before she was stopped. If he was telling the truth, she must be a force to be reckoned with.

As she reached the revival chamber, she sighed. She'd dawdle, taking her sweet time, but she might as well get the worst of those on her list thawed out first. Her handheld controller blinked a query at her.

[Revive: Toombs?] Zanna tapped the screen in confirmation. One cryo chamber moved out of the collection of tubes to center itself over the iris atop the three-meter diameter containment area. A man fell into the room with a wash of fluid that drained into a storage area so it could be purified and reused. The man laid there, mostly limp, as the drugs drained out of his system.

In a blink, he was on his feet, then charging toward her. She stepped back involuntarily as the curly-haired merc pressed his hands and the right side of his face against the plasglass.

"Miss me?" Toombs leered at her. Underneath the mask that covered her nose and mouth to protect her from noxious fumes, Zanna scowled. Then the computer system's next query popped up.

[Purge?] She confirmed the instruction, wishing it meant that the chamber's occupant would be ejected from the ship.

[Delouse?] She touched the screen again. White mist filled the recovery chamber, then cleared to show the man fanning his armpits. As if she wanted to see that. God, he was such an asshole.

"Mmm. Fresh as a daisy." Rather than snarking at him like she wanted to, Zanna crouched to open a drawer in the chamber's base and put Toombs' bundle of gear into it. Once her side had closed and sealed, an access panel on the floor inside opened. Mr. Gabriel Toombs immediately began outfitting himself.

"Suit up and report." She tried to maintain a brisk and impersonal tone. "Must be something big, them taking you off ice after what you pulled." His little stunt had nearly killed half the people who kept the ship running, herself included.

"Sister, I certainly aim to find out." He cocked his assault rifle with a smug grin. Zanna had to turn away before she said something that would get her into trouble.

Because when you were in trouble, even the privilege of sending your family carefully screened text communications got taken away. She hadn't seen her parents or little sister in five years. Not since she went to the interview for a job that promised to pay enough for her to get her doctorate.

She desperately hoped that Riddick or the woman would kill Toombs. If, by some chance, they killed the top three, though, that would be even better.

_Kubla Khan_, Conservatory

The lavender-haired merc walked toward us, then stroked the cornrows of the statue Riddick had been looking at. Its eyes _moved_, looking at her, and I recoiled in horror. If all the human figures in the huge room— there had to be hundreds— were living _people_, she was more of a monster than I'd thought.

"Magnificent, is he not?" I stared as the man's eyes swiveled back to look at me. "And until now, I thought he was the last of his kind, escaping the massacre because I had him here." My mind raced, part fuming over the explosive now in my friend's neck, part figuring out how to get off the ship with the other survivors, and part trying to decide if the man could be another like me.

I _did_ look him over, though. More muscular than the convict, but not as tall. Whatever had been done to him had leeched out all color, leaving behind only shades of green-gray. The platform on which he stood was engraved with a title. 'Killer of Men: Furya.' The last word clicked into place in my mind, filling a hole I hadn't even realized was there. As if I should have known it my whole life.

"And now I have the two of you as well… a breeding pair, it seems. A superb addition to my menagerie." I narrowed my eyes. I was _not_ going to let her 'add' me to anything.

"Hmph." Riddick snorted dismissively. "Okay. You go through all the trouble to catch these guys, and this is what you do with them."

The bitch frowned. "You're missing the point."

"_What_ point? You've got millions, maybe _billions_, of UDs standin' around collectin' dust." The manacles forced me to wave both hands toward the rest of the room.

"You underestimate their value, my dear Eileen." I saw red; she had _no damned right_ to use my given name, the one my biological mother had chosen for me. "They are priceless. Each, at one time, the most wanted man or woman in the known universe. The number of lives ended at the hands of those living and breathing in this room is… incalculable." A self-satisfied smirk grew on her face.

"Ain't what I'd call 'livin'.'" My partner sounded as disgusted as I felt. The woman turned to fondle 'Furya's' head.

"Just the same, I assure you they are all very much alive. Each one sustained in a form of cryo so profound that seconds seem weeks, and to blink an eye is a day's work." Yet 'Furya' seemed considerably more mobile than that. Perhaps another indicator of similarity? "The brain, however, continues to function unimpeded. The mind continues to think and feel, swarming with whatever dark thought's it's trapped alone with, as it will be for hundreds of years."

"Hund— Holy _shit_, woman, how long do you plan on livin'?" I hoped she wouldn't adhere to the old maxim about a lady never revealing her age. The sidewise glance she gave me could mean nothing.

"This room holds, oh, about two hundred years of collecting." It was said so airily that I nearly dismissed the claim as bullshit. But it made sense. Some years had two or three different people at the top of the Alliance list, and the Company had a separate list of its own. That was about the only way to get so many high-profile killers.

Riddick simply curled his lip at her. I understood why. Living forever with only the motivation of continuing to gather some sort of resource wasn't life, it was limbo; not worth the effort.

"So much more fitting a fate than dropping them off at the nearest _slam_." Her voice was scornful of those institutions. "Here, they are appreciated for what they are, transformed into objects on par with their lives' work." The bitch straightened and walked toward an arch veiled with gauzy blood-red curtains, Junner on our heels, all but forcing us to follow. "And why? Because I gave them the audience they so desperately desired, the recognition they bought with the blood of others." Her hands briefly became more claw-like as we passed more 'statues,' then motioned gracefully. "I understood their actions, stripped free of moral convention." An intimate, semicircular area opened in front of us, centered on a divan and side table. Then she turned and placed her fingers under Riddick's chin.

I reacted without thinking as a sort of barrier shifted in my mind. The beast, given control, sought to bite, to savage the hand touching what was rightfully _ours_. Simultaneously, I recalled hundreds of dreams, all set under a pinkish sky. Twisted and dead or dying trees tangled together in what might have been a grotto once upon a time, surrounded by rolling hills thick with gravestones that memorialized a slaughtered race. And always, the woman was there, her outfit tight but allowing free movement, a waving cape of dark fabric, her dark hair festooned with braids and beads, and pale green eyes that gleamed the way mine often did. In every vision, she spoke, always ending by touching my head with two fingers and telling me, "Choose your future."

My teeth clicked, meeting on empty air less than a centimeter from _my_ man's jaw as the dream images dissolved. The merc queen had jumped away, with two meters now between us and startlement written large across her previously calm and in-control features. Warm breath puffed against my cheek as the convict briefly and near-inaudibly laughed. Now that I'd warned the object of my wrath, I leaned comfortably against his broad chest.

It took the woman a few minutes to get herself together again. "Don't you see? They're something greater now, something more than they ever were before…" Her dead green eyes closed, face twisted into a parody of bliss. "_Art!_"

"Lady, your taste _sucks_." My low soprano blended harmoniously with Riddick's deep bass. She sighed in disappointment, facing further into the sheer draperies.

"I expected as much. Junner?" Her flunky picked up a remote and pressed one of its buttons. With a low whir, the curtains slowly rose. "You see, Riddick, Eileen, there is a fundamental difference between you and I."

"Yeah. You're a psychopath." My friend said it slowly, as if he spoke to a mentally deficient person.

"A_men_ to that." The glare my addition generated was _so_ worth it. I smiled back sweetly.

"_You_ don't appreciate art." Riiiiight. What she called 'art,' any halfway decent jury would call 'crimes against sentients.' As bad as genocide. "But I believe the reason for this is something very different than you or anyone else might think. You're artists."

_**Martial**__ artist, thank you very much. __**Not**__ a homicide artist, you addlebrained twat._

"I've been called a lot of things in my day. _That _ain't one of 'em."

"You _make_ art, Riddick, not _analyze_ it. You shape it with your own hands, carve it from flesh and bone." Her focus switched to me. "And you, you are learning to do the same, to add your own unique style." She paused, then sighed. "But people like you do not understand such a thing by being lectured. You must _experience_ it." At a little wave of her hand, the dark-haired merc pressed a different section of the remote. Red light, bordering on infra-red and letting me see things even better than usual, flooded the dark space beyond the hangings.

Stunned, I took off my shades, hoping I hadn't seen what I thought I was seeing. Riddick and I both stepped toward the edge.

"Oh, shit."

"I said I'd find you, didn't I?"


	5. Chapter 5

Whew, what a week. Record highs, and no air conditioning at work. Thanks go out to my reviewers - JJ-Jefferu, anon (Glad I'm getting it right!), corbsxx, and jinxedpixie - and to those who have added this to their alerts of favorites - corbsxx, jinxedpixie, and furyangel. Your feedback is really important to me, and I really appreciate it. Now to go pancake and try to cool off some...

**A Matter of Instinct**

A _Chronicles of Riddick: Dark Fury_ Alternate Universe

**Chapter Five**

The edge of the balcony dropped four meters to the red-and-black patterned floor. Closed doors stood on the opposite side of the arena, with three massive spheres set in a precise equilateral triangle between there and the balcony. The nearer globes held Shazza and the imam, with Jack furthest from us. Cables fell from the unseen ceiling, attaching to metal collars that would become nooses the moment anyone slipped. And, of course, their hands were bound.

"What do you want?" Riddick was clearly livid. Here we'd gone through hell to get ten people off that shithole eclipse planet, one was already on the brink of death, and this fucking _bitch_ threatened a third of the remainder. Plus the fact that I liked the girl and the rogue heiress, and the convict felt as protective of kids as I did.

_You are __**so**__ askin' for an ass-whoopin'._

"To watch you work. I've spent most of my life observing fantastic things— the work of terrible men and women, such as yourselves— but it's always _after_ the fact, when the moment of bloody creation is cold and past. That changes now." As she spoke, the massive doors opened onto blackness. "I _need_ to see it, Riddick. I need to see it with my own eyes, as it happens." The merc queen reclined on the divan.

"We get outta there alive, you'll see it again." The big man leaned into her personal space. "_This close_." Soft footsteps, likely inaudible to normal ears, heralded the appearance of another woman. Her smooth Asian features contrasted sharply with the lean-muscled body under the close-cut clothing. And the tray in her hands held four very familiar blades.

Without looking, the head bitch picked up one of my daggers and ever-so-gently tapped it on the underside of Riddick's chin. My vision went hazy again with rage, a growl bubbling up from my chest. If there was _one_ place that sharp point didn't belong, it was on _my mate_.

Internally, I blinked, blindsided yet again by my feral alter ego. 'Battle-mate' was one thing. And I was definitely in lust with the man, but 'mate' felt rather… permanent. Yet at the same time, inevitably, the title belonged to him in my mind.

"No, Riddick." The lavender-haired woman crooned as she spoke. "I want your masterpiece. An artist is nothing without their chosen instruments." A deft flick sent the blade spinning past him to bury its tip in the decking, perhaps ten centimeters short of the edge. The smaller woman quickly sent the other three to join it with deceptive ease. I snarled; thicker-than-normal coat of titanium carbon nitride or not, they weren't designed to withstand the same stresses as throwing knives.

As we moved to collect our weapons, Junner and his female counterpart shifted to shield their mistress. I sneered, watching the four grunts at the ends of the opening warily. One was the redhead who'd hauled Jack about like a sack of grain, and another the piggish numbskull.

"When we meet again, I'm gonna bury this in your eye." My battle-mate used the curve of one swingblade to point at the man in the white coat. Then he stepped behind me, nose brushing my hair as his hands slid up my sides. Feeling the grips of the evil-tempered swingblades hanging between his thumbs and index fingers sent an atavistic thrill up my spine.

"Let them in." The mercs advanced on us. I struck low, sweeping the redhead's ankles out from under him as Riddick went high, his foot connecting with the fat man's head. He gutted one of the others as I hamstrung the fourth, and then we retreated toward the balcony's edge, watching the remaining pair carefully.

They took the bait, rushing us. Fatso's sheer mass managed to bear my partner over the drop, though, judging by the sounds that followed, he became the more muscular man's landing cushion. I went to one knee, catching Red's shins with my shoulder and sending him sailing into thin air. I leapt after him, planning on rolling to absorb the impact with the lower deck.

(Riddick)

My hands shoot out, catchin' Eileen's hips an' startlin' a squeak outta her. I put her down with a smug grin on my face, peck her on th' lips, and push up th' shades she got me. She takes her own off, hookin' 'em over the edge of her tank top.

"Go ultraviolet." The lightin' changes, just as th' bitch demands, an' four _things_ show up in th' doorway. They fuckin' glow, big donuts for bodies, balls spinnin' in the centers, two pair of tentacles wavin' on each one, an' root-like bases.

"I was on a pilgrimage." Holy man's voice is definitely scared. "Just a pilgrimage." The weird things spread out, creepily slither-stalkin' somebody on th' floor.

"This is bad, huh?" I don't like hearin' terror in th' kid's words.

"Who took on a grue hand-to-hand and won, Jack?" Eileen asks th' question even as she ducks a whip-strike.

"You guys." That firms up Jackie-girl's voice; she liked hearin' 'bout th' way my woman took out th' dumb fucker that cornered me in th' settlement.

Th' animal goin' after Fat-Boy goes dark all of a sudden, an' I c'n just make out th' tentacle snappin' out after him. He fires blind, not hittin' a damn thing 'fore he's strung up for dinner. Thing lights up again, grabbin' him with another limb, an' starts makin' some kinda colorless goo. It covers th' guy quick, then brings up a barbed tail-thing an' jabs it at th' sack. Th' merc swells for a second in the ooze, then kinda bursts inside it an' gets sucked up.

That has t' go on my 'yuck' scale.

Eileen avoids th' one goin' after her, but Red slips up an' gets absorbed in pretty much th' same way. A barb comes at me, an' I duck while shootin' my hands up so it goes between th' cuffs an' breaks th' chain. A second thing jumps me, an' th' two of 'em swat me into th' kid's ball. Shazza steps up, though, rolls hers over t' share before Jack hangs there for more'n a couple seconds.

(Eileen)

Riddick got up and threw himself at the pair of creatures that attacked him. But instead of joining its fellows going after the big guy, or the one that was tracking me, the fourth one targeted the holy man. He was with it, grabbing the rope above his head and kicking his sphere at it. Knowing he could only hold himself up for so long, I used the temporarily flattened thing as a springboard. My leap took me high enough to slice through the rope with one dagger as I flew past the Muslim. We both hit the floor in heaps, probably bruised, but otherwise all right.

The creature rose on its stalk again, now focused on me. I smoothly dodged three lashing tentacles before the tail rose. A quick movement just _so_, and instead of hitting me, the quite solid stinger severed the links between my manacles. Grinning fiercely, I cut off two of its limbs before one of the uninjured beasts moved to protect it.

"Beautiful, beautiful creatures."

"Shrill _are_ an exquisite species."

"I'm talking about the _Furyans_." Another mental click as the bitch's label for us settled into my brain. I'd examine it later.

A sphere rocketed past me, the near miss steamrolling my opponents. Hearing Riddick leap for Shazza and Jack, I pounced on the shrill that I'd reduced to two tentacles, jabbing the spinning orb at its center. Shattering like glass, it spilled glowing fluid as the beast went limp and still. I barely got time to process the results of my blow before diving to one side to avoid the wrath of the whole creature that had tried to protect it.

Despite being next to blind in the available light, Abu shoved a ball toward my assailant with a grunt. It was only clipped, but that gave me the opening I needed to dispatch it. Then I prodded him closer to where the others stood in a hurry.

"Get her on her feet." Jack must have landed harder, as she still struggled to stand. The heiress groped in her general direction, their hands meeting through pure luck.

"I cannot see!"

"You don't want to." I'd seen how the cannibalism of the grues had disgusted the holy man. This would be no better for him. Then I moved to stand next to the convict. "Center." The single word made him nod.

Both of the remaining shrill abruptly went dark to the point where I couldn't see them. My shoulders tightened. I didn't like this _at all_.

The girl's gasp spurred us into action. I dove forward, rolling up to the now-visible stalk of a shrill that was short one tentacle. Sinistra cut as far into the column of flesh— whatever it was formed of— as I could shove her. Riddick punched at the sphere, his swingblade easily piercing the globe. With a frown on his face, he stood there, watching the liquid flow onto the floor.

"No!" I saw the movement a split second before his wrist was snared, forcing him to drop a blade. I had no idea how Jack had known, but I would think about it later. Right now, my mate needed my help.

The beast seized his other wrist with a second tentacle, stretching his arms out to either side. I tried hacking at its lower body, only to be flicked away almost casually. The kid got hold of a severed limb and swung it like a whip, wrapping the other end around the barbed tail. Even that only held the creature back for a moment while it flipped her halfway across the arena. She got right back up, at least, scooping up the fallen swingblade.

With a mighty jerk, the big guy dodged the tail, and it sliced through the shrill's own tentacle, freeing his empty hand.

"Riddick?" Jack looked around frantically.

"Here!" At his shout, she threw the swingblade overhanded, and it sailed across the intervening space, the hilt smacking solidly against his palm. A single stroke cut off the other sinuous limb, which he then flipped to wind around the creature's core. Involuntarily, the beast reeled in its own death.

"Bravo!" Lights came on in the normal visible spectrum, and we both quickly returned our sunglasses to our faces as the woman applauded. "The grace, the expression, the sheer _violence_ of it. Exquisite!" I sidled closer to my battle-mate and passed Dextra to him at a small gesture. The bitch carried on, either ignoring our actions or just not seeing them. "Such a complete and thorough performance. It leaves only one question."

"I got a feelin' you're not gonna like it." The girl seemed to have a smart-aleck reply for everything. But she kept her voice down, where it wouldn't carry to the balcony.

"How will I ever have you mounted to do it justice?" The lavender-haired merc paused thoughtfully. "Then again, a breeding program might be even better. After all, your people were the known universe's most skilled warriors, before the massacre." I liked that idea about as much as the living statue plan.

With a grimace, Riddick raised my blade to the small mark left on his neck by the injector dart. He drew a short incision in the skin, passed the dagger back to me, and fished around inside the opening with two fingers. Someone behind us gagged.

"What are you— No!" Her Royal Bitchiness scrambled for her remote as the small, octopus-like device came out. The ends of the cut seemed to knit at such a pace that I could see the healing.

"You gonna keep that?" I glanced over my shoulder at Jack. She stared wide-eyed at the explosive, a little green around the gills.

"Looks like you'll have to be an abstract piece." As the merc growled, I moved, putting a hand on the kid's shoulder.

"Down! Now!" I hit the deck, bringing the girl with me. The other adults went prone, too, covering their ears. My partner threw the implant moments before the merc queen hit the detonator. The shock wave flattened him momentarily, but he got right back up. With only a little fumbling, we formed a living chain and escaped through the huge hole we'd made in the bulkhead.

Balcony

"We'll need to rouse a substantial pursuit force." Junner heaved an internal sigh at his employer's snarl. They had vastly underestimated the two Furyans; now all of the captive shrill were dead, as were twenty-nine bounty hunters. Lady Antonia's arena was in ruins, and five prisoners were loose on the ship. Would they try to free the other six who had been on the skiff with them?

"Who?" He traded a look with Beryl.

"All of them!" He'd never seen Chillingsworth so angry. "Even the 'Golls! Any man or _thing_ that can hold a weapon! Every last one! _Now_!" She ground the pointed toe of her shoe into his boot, though Junner barely felt the pressure. He nodded obediently, and she stepped back.

Once he was well out of Antonia Chillingsworth's sight, he broke into a jog, headed straight for the cryo section. This would take time; he'd send whoever was already awake.


	6. Chapter 6

Thanks for reviews go out to jinxedpixie, JJ-Jefferu, and BlueEyedPisces, and thanks to literaryone and agonizingly human for the alert addidtions. It's kinda late here, so I'm going to leave things at that and let you all enjoy. Please let me know what you think!

**A Matter of Instinct**

A _Chronicles of Riddick: Dark Fury_ Alternate Universe

**Chapter Six**

_Kubla Khan_, Bridge

(Toombs)

Seeing no one on the bridge, Gabriel Toombs walked in with his usual swagger. He'd never admit it, but he agreed with the tech who'd revived him. Somethin' really big had to be goin' down to get Front or Chillingsworth to approve of thawin' him out. They'd been pretty ticked off the last time he saw 'em.

"All right." He settled into a sensor station and let the hood descend. "Just what's the big deal?" A profile flashed on the screen, continually re-runnin' the physical identification program. "Oh, jumpin' Jesus. Come to papa, you beautiful, bald bastard."

Riddick was aboard, and worth a cool million-plus. Still images on the ID program showed the con havin' some fun down in Bay Three. Out of curiosity, Toombs called up the security footage that had provided the stills and watched intently.

It seemed like Big Evil had found himself a little accomplice. She was a pretty piece of work; lean, muscles setting off a decent set of feminine curves, with short hair somewhere between blonde and brown framin' her face. A set of wraparound shades similar to the pair Riddick was sportin' hid part of her face, but she had high cheekbones, a well-defined jaw, and a nose that wasn't too long, too short, or pointy. Nice.

And she could fight damn well, too. Took down five mercs all by her lonesome in less than two minutes, without even touchin' a gun. Interestin'…

"Toombs, what the hell are you doin'?" Fuck all, it was that white-haired butch bitch, Kraden, who'd nominally been put in charge of him. It figured that she'd show up while he was in the middle of things.

"Just gatherin' intel." He played the vid again. What would Riddick's new friend be like in bed?

"Yeah, well, stow it." Oh, he hated that woman. Hated bein' under anyone's command but his own. "We got some runners to bring in. Shoot on sight."

"Yes, sir!" Gabriel saluted facetiously, without even leavin' the sensor station.

So the merc-killin' pair were loose on the _Kubla Khan_. This might actually be _fun_.

Elsewhere

(Eileen)

We entered a section of the ship that had no artificial gravity, and I dropped back to help Jack. Her growing body and the resultant awkwardness hampered her progress, since she hadn't gotten familiar with the new size yet.

It made me glad that I'd only ever had a steady, slow increase in height at that age. The kid would be tall, though, somewhere between me and the convict. My old clothes were almost too short in the arms and legs for her.

"Any news on Fry?" We just barely kept up with the other three, but I had breath to spare.

"Died," Jack panted. "They said… she went inta… ana-somethin' shock."

"Anaphylactic shock?" She nodded. "Medical term for an allergy attack that kills. Who's got my stuff now?"

"Zeke." We fell silent then, pushing to stay within sight of the others.

Arena

(Toombs)

He looked around, amazed by the sheer amount of damage that Riddick and his woman had caused. Three cut ropes dangled from the ceilin', as many big spheres up against the walls. A huge hole had been blown through one bulkhead; Toombs figured that was how they got away.

_**Squish.**_

He looked down and scowled. He'd stepped on part of what was left of some sorta weird creature. Similar bits were scattered all over the arena's floor, with slimy puddles under them all.

"What the hell happened here?" Gabriel looked to the balcony. 'Lady' Antonia Chillingsworth glared down, angrier than he'd ever seen her.

"Shut up and take point." At Kraden's growl, he saluted his employer and turned toward the hole. "Burn 'em." Four beams of light pierced the darkness.

"Grab your panties, boys." Toombs grinned as he spoke to Jameson and the cyborg who filled out the four-man fire team.

_Let the hunt begin._

A behemoth clanked into the arena through the large doors, its body a mishmash of machine and animal. The six Rykengolls holding onto its leashes had to run or be dragged. A seventh jogged beside it, carrying a pole with a small tuft of absorbent material on the end.

The chief handler scanned the mess in the arena. It took a moment to spot the small, dark red spatter. The swab soaked it all up and then was offered to the creature. It sniffed briefly, then chomped down, devouring the sample.

"Turn it loose." Five of the 'Golls released their cables immediately. The sixth was a bit too slow, though; he got tangled in the other lines and was dragged along as the beast took off after its prey.

Oh, well. That one had been new, and not adjusting well to his enhancements. One less to worry about. Good riddance.

Elsewhere

(Eileen)

Thankfully, the null-g area hadn't been very large. We were back on our feet quickly, running hell bent for leather. Jack and I still trailed behind.

As the girl and I scrambled over a big piece of equipment, something in the distance roared. Loudly.

"What the hell is that?" Shazza slowed a little, looking back over her shoulder.

"_Move_." Riddick had pulled out his command voice again. Everyone picked up the pace.

(Toombs)

They reached a large shaft, where components of the _Kubla Khan_ rose vertically through the vessel. On their current level, at the bottom, it was a dead end. Toombs panned the beam of his light up the irregular column.

There— a figure climbin'. He squinted, then used his scope to get a better look.

"What the—?" It was a goddamned kid. Kraden and the other two didn't even bother checkin'. Their rifles chattered as they opened fire on the distant form.

(Riddick)

I help Eileen over th' edge onto th' flat top of th' equipment an' lean out t' grab Jackie-girl when a beam of light slides up onto her. Her hand's in mine, so I haul as a real fuckin' familiar series of rapid barks come from below. A bullet burns a line 'cross my bicep an' nearly makes me drop th' kid, but I manage t' get her belt with th' other hand an' heave her over my head.

"You're badly hurt." I don't respond t' th' imam's words as I low-crawl away from th' edge so th' mercs can't see me stand up.

"_Him_?" Jackie-girl's not happy. "He almost tore _me_ in _half_."

"Just a graze," I tell my woman. No time or stuff t' treat it with, so I just dust off my hands and wall th' pain away.

"Be glad it's a sore middle and not a bullet wound." Outta th' corner of my eye, I see th' kid flush an' look down as Eileen scolds her 'fore we take off again.

(Toombs)

He swore to himself as the others began climbin' after their quarry. What the hell had Chillingsworth dragged them into? He wasn't a _complete_ ass, didn't go for hostages or killin' bystanders.

A roar shook everythin', even the metal under his hands, and he swallowed nervously. Toombs _knew_ what that sound meant. One of the Rykengolls' toys had been put on the scent.

"That _bitch_!" He scaled the artificial cliff with renewed energy. The cyborg made a good foothold to get him further up. "Move!"

(Eileen)

Hitting a section of straight, level-floored corridor, Abu and Shazza poured on every bit of speed they had. Riddick led easily, while I stuck with Jack, who'd started to fall further behind. She'd hit her limit, and my mate seemed to be thinking along the same lines as I was.

He slid to a stop near a large hatch in a bulkhead, and the two adults nearly tripped trying not to go past him. They both bent over, hands on their knees as they caught their breath. The girl's coltish arms and legs were a bit uncoordinated, and she half-stumbled the last few steps.

"We can't _stop_!" The prospector's protest was entirely reasonable. She didn't know that Riddick and I were coming up with alternative plans.

"We're not outrunnin' this thing." The brunette's expression grew more concerned. "Not th' five of us."

"What? I can keep up!" I understood why Jack didn't want to be left behind. My hand settled on her shoulder.

"Maybe someday." I squeezed a little, trying to comfort her. "With trainin' and practice. It's not your fault; you didn't _choose_ when to have a growth spurt." Her hazel-green eyes tried to stare through my shades, wide with worry.

"C'n you get t' th' others an' take 'em t' th' flight deck?" The convict looked to each adult. Shazza's face firmed with determination as she nodded, but the imam had to do her one better.

"Yes, the flight deck is just aft of here and up a level, and the others are forward and down two."

"All right." Riddick pointed at a small, dark gap between the bulkhead and a large, blocky metal box. "Stow in there an' let whatever's followin' us pass. When it does, grab th' others an' make for th' flight deck. Don't look back, no matter what ya hear."

"We'll wait for you." I added 'abandonment issues' to my growing mental list of things I needed to be concerned about for Jack. Not that I was going to try and find her someone else to stay with; my feral side was getting as possessive of her as it was of the convict, though in a more sisterly fashion.

"Stay with Shazza." The only other person she _would_ stay with, since Fry was gone, besides me and my mate. "I do _not_ intend t' break my word t' you, kiddo. We _will_ be on that deck, come hell or high water." A little of the anxiety left her face.

"What are you going to do?"

"Play hide-and-seek." I threw the facetious reply to Abu's question over my shoulder. He didn't need to know it would be the 'Who's the Better Killer?' version of the children's game.

I looked forward to helping weed out the merc population a bit more and putting down whatever creature had been set on our trail.


	7. Chapter 7

And here we are, at the final chapter of 'A Matter of Instinct'. We're just one review shy of equalling the reviews for 'Faint Premonition'! Thanks to BlueEyedPisces and jinxedpixie for your reviews. The next part of the story will be a short fic called 'Truths' and will be posetd next week. The one after that, 'Departures', will probably not be posted here on ff net due to rating restrictions, but it will definitely be over on aff net for folks to see. Besides those, I have two more short fics planned before we get into the events of TCoR, 'Homes' and 'New Beginnings', followed by the nine-chapter 'Sight Unseen'. Enjoy the chapter and leave me a review!

**A Matter of Instinct**

A _Chronicles of Riddick: Dark Fury_ Alternate Universe

**Chapter Seven**

(Riddick)

We leave th' kid, th' prospector, an' th' holy man behind, an' I lift a swingblade, makin' a shallow cut across my arm. Th' blood wells up an' drips onto th' decking as we move. For a moment, Eileen looks like she's gonna comment, bitch me out or somethin', but she thinks before she speaks. Realizes I'm leavin' a trail for whatever's after us. An' I'm the only one that left blood in that fuckin' arena.

"Race ya?" I blink for a second as I process th' question, then I return her grin. It'll be good t' stretch my legs some.

We both hit full throttle, an' my woman lets out a peal of laughter. Hell, we're gonna go have ourselves some fun with this.

(Jack)

"So where do we gotta go to meet up with Ridd—" A firm hand over her mouth silenced Jack, and she scowled. Apparently, nobody wanted to hear what she had to say.

The imam put a finger to his lips, signaling for silence. _Then_ she heard the clunking of the mercs' magnetic boots. Hell, she'd just about put her foot in her mouth again.

Four of them went by, one pausing a few seconds later before going after the others. The girl sighed, shoulders slumping, and looked to the brunette. Crouched between her and the dark-skinned man, Shazza shook her head.

Was there something _else_ coming? Four mercs would be nothing for Riddick and Eileen. Another, much heavier set of metallic feet echoed through the corridor, spaced out so far that whatever they belonged to had to have some really long legs. And it was getting closer, fast.

With a thunderous roar, it passed their hiding place, and time seemed to slow while she watched it. A round ball of pinkish flesh, a bit bigger than her head and almost entirely mouth, snapped its teeth closed and got pulled back inside a much, _much_ larger jaw edged with round, green artificial optics. Then came the legs, entirely mechanical, with metal arches for feet, followed by a rear end the same color as the first 'head', stumpy and sporting several boneless-looking tails, no two of them the same length.

It was gone practically the moment it left her narrow view of the corridor, and she peered after it once they'd abandoned their niche. No sign of the thing, just another blank wall ahead.

"We've got to help them." Jack glared when there was no immediate response, but neither adult would meet her eyes. "We can't help them if we leave."

"Sometimes, that is exactly how it works." Mr. al-Walid probably thought that would help, but he was wrong. Not that she trusted anything he said in the first place.

"Th' best way t' help them right now is t' keep ourselves safe. An' keeping ourselves safe means leavin' them t' deal with th' immediate threats." Okay, the prospector's explanation made a _little_ more sense.

The twelve-year-old still couldn't help but look over her shoulder as she followed the older pair.

(Toombs)

The blood on the decking probably wasn't a good thing. Given the wreckage Gabriel had seen in the arena, one of them _had_ to be injured. He knew Chillingsworth took measures to protect herself from the more dangerous captures, but Riddick didn't seem the type to let anyone collar him.

Well, except maybe for that sweet little piece of woman-flesh that had joined him. And she looked to be cut from the same psycho mold as Big Evil.

No, one of the two had probably been implanted with a subcutaneous explosive. They'd taken it out when the purple-haired wannabe 'art' collector had least expected it, then took advantage of its destructive capabilities to bust out. That woulda left blood in the arena, and now they were leaving a nice, tempting trail of it.

The others stopped, but he kept his eyes on their backtrail, watching for the 'Goll beast.

"Sweep it."

"I got somethin'." Jameson's response came just seconds after Kraden gave the order. Toombs might not have heard much about Big Evil before his latest stint in cryo, but leaving objects around for people to find was not something the man did.

"Check it out." He looked out of pure curiosity. The blond man held up a small bundle of black cloth.

_Oh, fuck me…_

"Don't touch that!" He knew the warning was far too late even as the words left his mouth. Metal feet echoed close by.

"Oh, _shit_." They started unloading rounds into the hideous thing the moment it came around the corner, to no effect. Jameson bit the dust, and Gabriel started looking for an escape route.

A large pipe, nearly a meter in diameter, ran along the wall and floor behind him. The frosty bitch's legs vanished down the creature's throat as he turned his rifle to the tube. Part of it came away in fragments, and Toombs abandoned the weapon to dive into the murky liquid that was revealed.

Just in time, too, because the entire pipe section vanished right behind him.

(Eileen)

As far as I could tell, the mercs never even glanced up.

Riddick had found a wide airshaft for us to hide in, nicely situated above the center of a large, dark cul-de-sac. With no grate closing it off, it made a good spot to set up an ambush. He'd thrown me up into it easily, then waited until I'd climbed up and vacated the handholds before following with an impressive standing leap/

Only when he whispered his plan into my ear did I understand completely. Wait for the mercs to arrive, then let the beast chomp on 'em for a bit. Once they'd been eliminated, we would drop onto the most convenient part of the thing and kill it. A sound strategy.

But with only a thin layer of fabric and my backplate between us, I'd gotten a little bit distracted. All that lovely bronzed skin on display, and one of his arms wrapped securely around my waist as we practically hung in midair. I turned my head to lick and nip at his bicep, savoring the taste of his sweat. In return, the convict began lavishing attention on my neck. His work was bound to leave a visible mark, but if the other survivors hadn't figured out that there was something going on between us, I didn't care.

_Is this more than chemistry? Something deeper?_

I had no time to wonder, though. The mercs charged into the dead end, one lifting the shirt that Riddick had deliberately left on the floor. Another yelled a belated warning, and then the creature arrived.

As it tore the bounty hunters to pieces, I heard someone shoot at metal, then a splash and the shrieking sound of the material being ripped out of its place. Then, silence having fallen as the mercs were devoured or bled out, the beast thumped over, tilting to look up the shaft at us. The open maw with its many teeth invited attack.

Letting go of the rungs that had supported us, we dropped like a pair of sharp-edged rocks. Between our four blades and the momentum of more than a hundred and fifty kilos, the monstrous mixture of organic being and machine never stood a chance.

Neither did my tank top and bra.

"Goddammit." I fingered a long tear, then looked at a nearly-exposed breast. "al-Walid would throw a shit fit if I showed up around those boys of his like this."

"Well, I ain't puttin' _that_ back on." My battle-mate dropped the tattered and soaked remains of his shirt. I spotted a torso that had been thrown against a bulkhead, the dead woman appearing to be close to my size. As I stripped the shirt and bra from the partial corpse, he pulled a black wife-beater off a cyborg whose neck was obviously broken.

I shucked the rags, drawing an appreciative whistle. My cheeks heated while I struggled into the merc's clothes; she'd been rather flat-chested. Still, it felt nice to be treated like I was actually pretty.

As though he'd memorized the ship's layout, my mate— and that instinctive appellation still perplexed me— led the way through corridors and shafts. We hit the flight deck and stopped dead. My feral side surged forward, the civilized part gladly ceding control. The Asian woman who had been guarding Her Royal Bitchiness dumped a limp Ali on top of his motionless brothers. Junner held Jack against a wall by her throat, and yet she still fought him. Her eyes bulged as she kicked and scratched, then flipped him the bird.

"Let her go." Upon hearing Riddick's growl, the white-coated merc faced us and discarded the girl like a piece of trash. I carefully watched the woman sidestep along the wall. Knowing that a fight was about to start, I flexed my knees. "It's me you're after," the big convict continued. "You want a shot at th' title?"

"Little miss legal." My opponent's voice sounded like water on a hot pan, sibilant and spitting. "So what would old man Trent think of the company you're keeping?"

"He'd trust my intuition." And he would; my instincts had cracked more than a few tough cases.

With little warning, her hand flickered. The high-pitched hum had me pulling my dagge4rs and shielding my face with them.

_Ping!_

_Ping!_

_Ping!_

Three _shuriken_ hit the titanium-coated blades and fell to the decking, their spin ruined. I didn't want any more throwing stars in the fight; they gave her too much reach. So I rolled forward in a somersault, regaining my feet within arm's length of her.

That close, I could tell that the small, dark mark at the corner of one jade-colored eye was, in fact, a tiny _kanji_ tattoo. I couldn't read it, of course, but filed away a mental picture for later. Time to concentrate on destroying my enemy. It kept me from being surprised when she drew a gleaming pair of _sai_.

This would be an interesting fight.

Jab. Dodge. Swipe. Lean away. She attempted to feint with one hand and catch me with the opposite knee when I avoided the _sai_, but I went in a direction she hadn't expected. I bound her left weapon with my right, the three sharp-tipped prongs between the blade and my arm. She just managed to hold off my return shot.

We strained against each other in a test of brute strength, and I glanced at the convict. He and Junner were duking it out bare-handed, having disarmed each other at some point. But my mate had strength to spare, while the merc was almost skeletal. No way for the asshole to win.

I slammed my heel against the other woman's instep, breaking the deadlock, but also pulling the blades out of both our hands. She shifted into a _ninjutsu_ stance, then charged at me. I countered with Krav Maga, the style which came to me most naturally. Strike the correct spot in the right way, and your foe was down, probably dead. I hammered away at her duck-and-run defenses until she grabbed a spanner and swung at me.

I ducked just in case, and another _shuriken_ whizzed past my face. My hand landed on three cool shafts of steel, my fingers closing around the longer centerpiece. I hurled the _sai_ at her; it hummed angrily and buried itself deep in a bulkhead as one of the boys crashed into something. I let her furious charge bowl me over, planting a foot in her gut and sending her flying as I returned to my feet.

A gagging sound came from my left as I stooped to snatch Sinistra off the floor with my fingertips. Half a second later, the lights died, and I seized my chance. The razor-sharp blade slammed into the woman's throat horizontally with all of my mass behind it, cutting clear to her spine. Glass shattered, and Junner screamed. The faint squelching sound under his cry made me grin savagely.

Red emergency lights came on with soft clicks as I stood and cleaned my dagger on the dead woman's dark clothing. The tall merc crumpled, and I turned to look for Dextra. Riddick used his foot to hold the man's skull while he extracted the swingblade from an eye socket.

"I told ya that was comin'." I found my other dagger as he spoke to the corpse. His left hand covered the opposite bicep, but a small motion of his fingers indicated that it was nothing before I could say anything. Why was immediately apparent; Abu had regained consciousness and was rousing others as Jack shook off the effects of near-strangulation.

"Wh-where are you going?" Fear laced the cleric's voice as the convict moved to an elegant star-jumper.

"Gonna prep this ship and get off this heap."

"So _we_ can escape?" The Arab might have though his emphasis on the plural pronoun was subtle. I rolled my eyes as I gave him a 'come along' gesture. The big guy went ahead and pulled the manual hatch release.

"It is over. We have survived." Bright light streamed from inside the craft, and I tensed.

**BLAM!**

Sulfur seared my nose as the convict fell, the report ringing in my ears. The bitch queen, panting and disheveled, makeup smeared, had been waiting for us. The truly ancient flintlock pistol she held swung around to point at my face.

"Back to hell with you, you bloody, stinking savages!" I could smell his blood over the spent gunpowder, and cringed involuntarily.

_No. No. He can't be dead. __**Please**__ don't let him be dead!_

**BLAM!**

This time, the shot came from behind me. Part of the pale, mascara-streaked face vaporized, the rest of the body collapsing bonelessly. Then blunt fingers touched my ankle, the fabric uppers of my combat boots letting me feel it. Stifling a sob of relief, I crouched to help Riddick.

"Im—" he began, sitting up and turning.

"Yeah, we made it." I blinked, a bit startled to see Jack holding Junner's assault rifle, smoke curling from its barrel as she folded her arms across her chest awkwardly. Most of the other civilians were still trying to stand.

"Awfully uncivilized thing you just did there, Jack." My mate's statement held mild surprise.

"Oh, puh-_leeze_." Her sardonic reply got a snort of amusement out of me. "_She_ started it. I wasn't gonna let her get away with shooting you both." The girl moved close, and I wrapped her in a one-armed hug.

"Well done, kiddo." I kept my voice soft so it wouldn't carry. "You gotta put 'em down quick like that, then take the headshot. Bullet through the heart won't keep 'em from pullin' the trigger one last time." She smiled a bit shyly, then helped me hoist the convict up off the decking.

We had all survived, despite the best efforts of mercs and monsters alike. Battered, but alive. For a moment, as I ushered the other survivors into the star-jumper, I considered going back for the 'Killer of Men,' but sense prevailed. I had no idea how many mercs had been thawed, for one thing. For another, it would probably take at least me and Riddick to carry him.

I sighed and closed the little yacht's hatch.

_Kubla Khan_, Aft Observation Deck

Two levels above the flight deck, Toombs watched through the long viewport as Chillingsworth's precious star jumper sped away. Having watched the fight between the bitch's lapdogs and Riddick and his woman— and the insane attempt to shoot the victors— he knew generally who was aboard the yacht. Oh, not names, aside from the bald bastard, but what did that matter?

"Riddick." He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "We ain't done, boy. Not by a long shot."

Luxury Star Yacht _Sparrow_

"Riddick, Eileen." I pulled my gaze away from the information I'd found about the jumper's late owner and found Abu giving the sleeping Jack an odd look. She didn't want to let me or the convict out of her sight, and had almost immediately nodded off in a jumpseat, holding Junner's rifle like a favorite teddy bear. The sword that fit in its barrel sheath leaned against the co-pilot's couch that I occupied.

"Trouble?" The big guy didn't even look up from the manuals he was reading.

"Yes. It is nothing back there." The imam made the assurance far too quickly. "What worries me lies ahead."

"Jack." My voice went flat and quiet as I half-rolled to my feet.

"I am concerned for her, that she'll become—"

"What, like me?" My eyes narrowed. "A well-educated young woman with a mind, career, and ambitions of her own?" He flinched, telling me how right I was. "I know some sects of Islam don't exactly look favorably on independent females, but she's not Muslim, and neither am I. Or do you mean a killer?" al-Walid's expression got mulish. "If I hadn't killed, I'd be just another teenage rape-murder victim. A _statistic_. And then _you_ might well have died on that lovely little nightmare of a planet. Or those boys." I got right up in his face, pissed off by his assumptions. "So _don't_ try to tell me either of those is 'trouble.'"

"I mean no offense, but…"

"You think _I'd_ do somethin' to her, holy man?" Riddick's voice deepened to a growl. "You don't know _shit_ about me."

"Go worry about those boys of yours." I pointed at the hatch leading into the common area. "I get that you don't approve of either one of us being Jack's role model, but she could do a lot worse. Like Johns." Abu jerked as if I'd slapped him. "She's choosing to go with us of her own free will. Respect that, even if you don't like it." The cockpit lights dimmed, and I felt my eyes change, making the man jump.

He had no defense against what I'd said, and we both knew it. Without another word, the imam left. A glance at the girl showed that she was still sound asleep.

I could hardly wait to get rid of our passengers.


End file.
